


There's An Old Klingon Proverb...

by Creej



Category: White Collar
Genre: Betrayal, Dark!Elizabeth, F/M, Other, Presumed Dead, Revenge, dark!Neal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 16:53:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20177611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creej/pseuds/Creej
Summary: Peter and Elizabeth invite Neal into their marriage but it's not the happily ever after one would suppose it would be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of my OT3 wannabe stories where Elizabeth and Neal get too involved with each other and push Peter to the sidelines. But this time, it's deliberate.

Peter stood holding a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as he watched the dead man burn. He didn't know his name but he knew what name would be given to him because, as of this moment, Special Agent Peter Burke was dead.

It had been easy to find a John Doe in the city morgue who approximated his height and build, easy to pose as a relative and claim the body. It was more difficult to transport him to this not quite out of the way alley and dress him in clothes that Peter would wear...not that he expected much to survive. Lastly he'd placed his wallet and credentials in the back pocket, doused the body in gasoline and set it ablaze. As he watched the flames, he thought of the series of events that had led him to this point - the point where he watched a dead man burn.

It had started not long before Neal's tracker came off for the last time. Peter and Elizabeth had sat down and confessed/discussed their feelings for the man in Peter's charge and agreed that bringing him into their marriage was something they both wanted. So, each in their own way - Peter hesitant, Elizabeth more straightforward - they sounded Neal out, asking if it was something he would want. His blinding smile was all the answer they needed.

Since the Marshals weren't as vigilant as they were in the beginning, Neal was able to spend the night on more than one occasion and though he slept in their bed, no sex happened since they'd agreed that would wait until after Neal was free. Sex didn't happen between Peter and Neal but Peter was almost positive Neal and Elizabeth had when he was otherwise occupied.

Which led Peter to the next step.

As Neal began spending more and more time with them after the tracker came off, he noticed the shift in their dynamic - not that it wasn't obvious. It was in the way their plans included him less and less, in the way he came home more and more often to an empty house - no call, no text, not even a note to tell him where they'd gone or what time they'd be back - in the way his things gradually migrated to the guest room with no objection from either, the whispered conversations that broke off when they realized he could hear them, the covert looks they exchanged.

They must have thought he was stupid or didn't see what was happening, forgetting how well he could put the pieces together and he decided on a course of action to give them what they obviously wanted - a course of action that led to him standing in an alley as a dead man burned.

To set the stage, he began "working late"...not that either of them noticed really. Then an opportunity came along - he got a case that required him to go into deep cover. As he prepared his cover identity, he also prepared a second, non-sanctioned identity and in an admittedly petty act of revenge, began draining Neal's offshore accounts - accounts he was certain Neal didn't know he knew about. Tens of millions of dollars went into another account that was set up in the new name he'd chosen.

He didn't bother telling them about the assignment. He rarely saw them anymore and he doubted they'd care, doubted they'd even notice his absence. When he left the house that morning - his last as Peter Burke - he took a look around, plans for what he'd do running through his mind.

As the flames extinguished themselves, he pulled out a burner phone and called 9-1-1, reporting a body, badly burned, in the alley. Once he was assured that units were on the way, he hung up and tossed the phone into a nearby dumpster. He didn't stick around for the cops - he had other things to do.

Since his undercover assignment was over he went to his new home, situated just a few miles from his old one and began watching the obits, waiting to see one in particular - his own.

As he'd hoped, his credentials - a bit scorched - were enough of a positive identification that DNA or dental records weren't needed.

Three days earlier...

"Neal honey? Could you get that?" Elizabeth called from the kitchen.

Neal set his sketchpad aside as another knock came at the door. Opening it, he found two somber looking men standing on the stoop. "May I help you gentleman?" he asked.

"Is Mrs. Burke at home?" the older of the two asked.

"Elizabeth!" Neal called as he stepped aside, waving the two inside.

Elizabeth emerged from the kitchen, a frown creasing her brow when she saw the two men standing by the couch. "Yes? What can I do for you?"

"Mrs. Burke? Elizabeth Burke?" the older man asked. At her nod, he said, "I regret to inform you that your husband, Special Agent Peter Burke is...deceased. Out condolences, ma'am."

"Are...are you sure it's Peter?" Elizabeth asked unsteadily as she sat. "Do you need me to..."

"That won't be necessary," the younger man said. He reached into a pocket and removed a couple of things, putting them in her hands. "His wallet and credentials were found on the body. It was enough for identification."

Elizabeth looked down at the scorched leather of the wallet and ran her finger over it. "When will the body be released?" she asked. "I need to make arrangements..."

"I'll do it, El," Neal said. "You don't have to."

"No, he's my husband...was my husband," Elizabeth said. "But thank you." She looked again at the wallet and credentials. "Is it bad?" she asked.

"It's...not pretty, ma'am," the younger agent said. "Perhaps it would be best if your friend made the arrangements."

There was a few moments of not quite awkward silence before the older agent said, "You have our deepest condolences, Mrs. Burke. Your husband was a fine agent." They gave her a nod and left.

Once the door was closed behind them, Elizabeth set Peter's things on the coffee table. "He's gone," she said, her voice steady.

"Looks that way," Neal said, sitting beside her on the arm of the chair. "You okay?"

"I think so," Elizabeth said. "It hasn't really sunk in yet. How are you?"

Neal shrugged. "I'm fine," he said. He brushed her hair back. "Wine?"

"Sounds good."

Peter knew it was a risk, going to his own funeral, but he reasoned that no one would be looking for him, wouldn't expect to see him.

He waited until everyone was inside and the music began playing before he slipped inside, hiding in the shadows and listened with half an ear as the pastor gave a short sermon, looking among the crowd. He saw Neal and Elizabeth of course, his team, as well as a few Section Chiefs and ADs.

His attention was brought back to the podium as Elizabeth made her way up and studied her as she spoke. She looked almost like the stereotypical grieving widow, her face partially obscured by the veil that hung from her hat - but Peter still saw the lack of any genuine grief, her gaze on Neal.

Next it was Neal's turn and Peter listened as he told an abbreviated version of their history, the ups and downs, how Peter had protected him, how the agent had welcomed him into his home and called him friend. Peter was reminded of how good a con Neal was as he spoke. Everyone else saw the grieving friend and partner but Peter saw otherwise. He saw the face of a man who'd pulled of a major heist, free and clear and he wasn't even close to being on the suspects list. Saw the quick wink at Elizabeth, the barely there smile.

Before Neal finished, Peter turned to leave. He decided to skip the graveside service in favor of going home...after a stop at his old one. He had plans to carry out.

He entered cautiously, feeling almost like an intruder. He shook the feeling off as he climbed the stairs, his first stop, the master bedroom. No real surprises there since Neal had essentially taken his place - suits, shoes and ties in the closet, clothes in the dresser, personal jewelry on the nightstand.

Rummaging around in the closet, he extracted a box - the "Caffrey Box" - and set it out in the hall before making a few discreet additions.

His next stop was the guestroom. A tight coil of anger twisted in his chest at what he found. The room was filled with boxes of his things - some for donation, some for sale, others destined for the trash. Less than a week after his "death" they were prepared to forget he even existed, erasing his presence from the house.

As he returned downstairs with the box, he gathered every picture he could of himself and tossed them on the living room floor and proceeded to reduce them to bits of paper, shards of glass and twisted and broken frames.

Next, he went into the kitchen and sorted through the odds and ends drawer until he found a bottle. Setting the box on the dining room table, he uncapped the bottle and spread the CA glue on the bottom of the box then on the table before pressing them together. He then removed his wedding ring and applied a bead of glue around the edge and pressed in onto the coffee table. By the time they returned, the glue would have set, making it nearly impossible to remove.

He was tempted to do more but he was aware of time passing - they'd be back soon. He made a few more additions to the living room and kitchen before slipping out the back.

"It was a lovely service," Elizabeth said as she and Neal entered the house. "Peter..." She stopped abruptly, seeing the mess on the floor. "Neal..."

"Let me check,' Neal said. "Stay here." He searched the house but found nothing - no sign of forced entry, no sign that anything was missing. When he returned to the living room, he found Elizabeth kneeling by the pictures, torn to shreds amid what used to be the frames that had held them.

"Who would do something like this?" Elizabeth asked, bewildered.

"Do you really care?" Neal asked, crouching down to face her. "We didn't want reminders."

"I know but...I at least wanted to keep the frames," Elizabeth said.

"I'll buy you new ones," Neal said, helping her up. "Go get changed. I'll clean up down here." Elizabeth gave him a nod and went upstairs as he returned to the dining room and what was sitting on the table. He recognized it of course. He'd seen it in Peter's closet, high on a shelf, knew what it was. He grabbed the handholds, surprised when it didn't budge - it wasn't that heavy. After wrestling with it a few minutes, it came loose, its contents scattering...with the bottom still firmly attached to the table.

He was gathering the cards, letters and pages of Peter's unofficial file on him when Elizabeth returned, dressed in more casual clothes. "What the....?" Elizabeth started. "Neal?"

"I don't know," Neal said, piling papers on the table. "Someone glued the box down." He surveyed the remains, poking at it experimentally. "Glue's had time to set," he said. "I'm not sure we can get it off without damaging the table."

"Fortunately, I know someone who knows someone who restores furniture," Elizabeth said. "And if they can't fix this, we'll just get another table. What really gets me is who would vandalize our house? The pictures, the table..."

"I don't know, El," Neal said. "Peter didn't have any enemies and I can't imagine anyone hating you enough to do this."

Pete5r smirked a little, well able to imagine their expressions, Neal's surprise when he found the box and tried unsuccessfully to move it, listening to the rustle of the papers as they were scattered when the box tore. No indication of if they'd found the ring yet but he knew they would eventually.He removed the earpiece and sipped his beer, planning his next move. They wanted to forget him but he was going to make sure they didn't - not for a while, at least. He scratched lightly at the beard he was growing, started during his undercover assignment. Normally, he would have shaved by now but since he had plans to see them at some point, he wanted them to wonder if they were seing things. Facial hair was a very effective disguise. He once caught a bank robber who'd avoided positive identification by witnesses simply by shaving off his beard and another just by growing one.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The incidents Neal and Elizabeth experience get more personal.

Elizabeth frowned at the plain white envelope she'd found on the entryway floor. It had no return address, no postmark, just Neal's name typed on the front. If it had been for Peter, she would have opened it without a second thought. Instead, she laid it on the dining room table, next to the remains of the box still stuck to it. The restorer hadn't been able to dissolve the glue and they hadn't had time to get a new one...so it remained, indirectly, a reminder of Peter...and it was starting to bother both of them. As she turned back, she caught a glint of light from the coffee table and went to investigate. There, partially hidden by the plant, was a familiar ring - Peter's wedding ring to be precise. In the weeks since his death, she'd assumed that whoever had killed him had taken his ring like they'd taken the credit cards and cash from his wallet. So how did the ring get there? She reached to pick it up...only to find it stuck to the glass top of the table. She looked up when the door opened to admit Neal.

"Hey, El..." Neal trailed off, seeing Elizabeth's expression. "What?"

"Peter's ring," Elizabeth said. "Stuck to the coffee table."

"How long has it been there?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I just noticed it. Long enough for the glue to set."

"Someone has a sick sense of humor," Neal said. "First the box, now this."

"One more mystery," Elizabeth said, getting the envelope. "This is for you."

Frowning, Neal opened it, removing a single sheet of paper.

_Congratulations Caffrey, you've pulled off your biggest heist, finished your masterpiece con. You stole the wife of your best friend...but you were never his friend, were you? He was just a mark to you, wasn't he? You used him, conned him into getting what you wanted and what you wanted was a replacement for your dead girlfriend. You can't deny the similarities. But don't think he would consider Elizabeth innocent in all this. Her betrayal was worse than yours. Yes Caffrey, you betrayed him. He got you out of prison, went into the grey areas and overlooked things so you'd stay out, welcomed you into his home...called you friend. And in return, you steal the one thing that was most important to him. And Elizabeth...for fifteen years he loved her to the exclusion of all else then you come along and she throws it away like he meant nothing to her. _

_Just keep in mind that betrayal has a cost._

_P.S. You might want to check those accounts you thought he didn't know about._

There was no signature but Neal hadn't expected one. Whoever had written the letter had wanted to leave no clue as to their identity. He crumpled the letter, his mind racing. Few people outside the team knew about Kate and even fewer knew about his offshore accounts...only one besides himself and he knew Moz would never rip him off like that. But the letter practically stated Peter had known of them.

"Neal?"

"I'm fine," Neal said automatically. "Excuse me. I need to check something." Before Elizabeth could respond, he went upstairs and got his laptop. One after another, he found his accounts had a balance of less than a dollar. Tens of millions gone to who knew where. Whoever had taken it had been a pro, leaving no trace as to where it had gone. He doubted even the White Collar team could find it. 

It wasn't like he _needed_ the money, not like _they_ needed it - Elizabeth's business was booming and he was very well paid as a private security consultant. It was just he'd been hoping to use some of it to treat Elizabeth to a fantastic honeymoon. Even though he had yet to ask, he was certain she'd say yes and he'd been planning on taking her on the Grand Tour, hitting the best restaurants and cafes, touring the museums and staying in the finest hotels...showing her that he was so much more suited to her than Peter ever was.

That thought led back to the letter which reminded him - unpleasantly - of everything the agent had done for him. Saved him from another four years in prison, covered for him even though it could have cost him his career, put his life on the line to keep him safe...and he'd treated the man as nothing but a mark. But that's all he'd ever been and Neal refused to feel guilty...not when he had what he wanted.

Peter sat in the park down the street from the townhouse, discreetly watching Neal and Elizabeth as they sat beneath a tree, heads close as they talked. He could see it wasn't sweet nothings from their expressions - intent and uncertain.

A wicked smile appeared briefly as he thought about what they'd go back to - Neal's expensive silk ties cut in half, his precious Devore suits practically shredded, Elizabeth's shoes with the heels snapped off, her dresses in the same condition as Neal's suits, her jewelry gone...except the wedding ring he'd given her which was epoxied to her dressing table mirror. He knew some of it was heirloom, from her grandmother but he didn't care. Left in the destruction was a typewritten note.

_Mrs. Burke...or is it Mrs. Caffrey now? Regardless, most would find it a little...tacky how you've moved on so quickly after Peter's death. Especially since it hasn't even been a year. Most would assume you'd grieve a little longer but then most would assume you grieved at all. You didn't, did you? Didn't grieve for the man who'd put you at the center of his world, who'd have done anything to make you happy. Instead, you tossed him aside, threw what you had away in favor of the glitz and glamor of a known conman. Ask yourself, can you really trust him, Mrs. Burke? Like you trusted Peter? Peter, who was solid and real, who was exactly as he appeared instead of smoke and mirrors and only showed you what he wanted you to see, like Neal. He's a con artist, Mrs. Burke. A good one. You know this but you still want to tie yourself to a man who betrayed another man in the worst way, betrayed you husband after everything he'd done for him. And how can you be sure he's not lying to you? That you're not just a replacement for Kate? You know how much he loved her. After all, he risked four more years in prison escaping to find her, was devastated when she was killed. And Neal lies by reflex, unlike Peter who never, ever lied to you. Neal also hides things out of habit - ask him about his offshore accounts sometime. Millions of dollars. Plenty to disappear and start over with a new name. He's done it before. Peter never hid anything from you unless it was to protect you. I could go on with the differences but you get the picture. You've traded a man who was the best thing to ever happen to you for one you can never be completely sure of. A cop for a con. But then, you're a con too, aren't you? For years, you conned Peter into believing you still loved him, all the while you plotted with Caffrey on how to betray him. But at least he's dead (a relief to you both no doubt) and won't have to live with the heartbreak and pain of knowing that._

Peter was brought out of his thoughts when Neal and Elizabeth passed by. He saw the spark of almost recognition in their eyes as they looked at him and he saw them just as quickly dismiss the possibility that they'd seen who they thought they'd seen. He rose and made his way back to his own townhouse unhurriedly. He'd listen to what they had to say later.

Once there, he put Elizabeth's jewelry in a small velvet bag and into the safe in his bedroom closet. He'd decide what to do with it at another time. She'd no doubt report both the vandalism and the theft but neither she nor Neal would be able to give the police names of any likely suspects. He chuckled. Sometimes it was a good thing to be dead. Downstairs again, he slipped the earpiece in and listened.

Elizabeth looked wide eyed at the destruction that was their closets. Nothing had been spared it seemed. With shaking hands, she ran her fingers down the strips of fabric that hung on the hangers. All her business suits and dresses were mere rags now, her shoes less than useless, completely unwearable.

Neal's wasn't much better. His ties lay on the floor, cut in pieces, his suits ruined beyond repair. "Who could hate us this much?" Neal asked, bewildered, dropping the remains of one of his favorite ties.

"It's not just this," Elizabeth said unsteadily. "All my jewelry is gone...except my wedding ring." She gestured to her dressing table mirror. The ring was impossible to miss, glued as it was at her eye level. "And there's this." She handed him the letter that had been in her jewelry box.

"It's like the one I got," Neal said after he read it. "You don't believe it, do you?"

"Believe what?"

"That you're a replacement for Kate," Neal said. "You're not, I swear."

"And what about those offshore accounts?" Elizabeth asked. "Were you ever going to tell me?"

"I was going to surprise you," Neal said.

"Surprise? How?"

"Take you to Europe," Neal said then paused uncertainly. "For our honeymoon."

"But were you going to tell me?" Elizabeth asked.

"I didn't think you'd care," Neal said.

"I wouldn't have but that's not the point," Elizabeth said. "We agreed to be honest with each other and now I find out you were hiding what's probably tens of millions of dollars from me."

"I don't have it anymore," Neal said. "Someone found out about them and drained them dry." He could tell by her expression that she didn't quite believe him and felt something twist in his chest. "I swear to you El, I don't have them anymore. I've never lied to you, you know that."

"Do I?" Elizabeth asked. "That letter reminded me of how good you are at what you do, reminded me of who you are."

"And Peter was such a Boy Scout, is that it?" Neal asked evenly but his anger bled through. "I thought you didn't want that anymore. You're the one who said you were tired of him being so safe. You wanted excitement, adventure...you wanted _me_. He was as much your mark as he was mine but at least I never considered him as anything but. I made no secret of the fact that I was using him or that I never considered him a friend. And you were fine with that. You were the one who figured out just how to push him aside and you didn't care any more than I did when he died. Didn't care that he probably knew what we were doing and hated us both for it." He held out his arms, encompassing the room. "And now, here we are, fighting about him, making him more important than he was. Are you - are_we_ \- going to let him come between us _now_? He's gone, El. Out of our lives for good. We can be together like we planned."

Though Elizabeth had questions, she kept them to herself and nodded. "All right," she said. "Peter's gone and it's just us."

A few months later, Peter came face to face with them at an event Elizabeth had organized. He'd gotten an invite because of the generous donation to the charity in question - a perk of being wealthy even if the money _had_ been illegally acquired.

He was making small talk with another guest when he felt eyes on him. It took all his training not to react when his gaze met Neal's, seeing the puzzled frown between the younger man's eyes. Casually, he smoothed his beard, thankful it no longer itched.

"I realize this is an odd question," Neal said as he joined Peter. "But have we met before?"

Peter gave him the once over before answering. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm pretty good with faces and yours doesn't ring any bells."

Neal looked at him oddly then shook himself. "Sorry," he said. "Neal Caffrey."

"Patrick Burns," Peter said. "Are you a friend of the host or a donor?"

"Neither. My fiancee, Elizabeth, organized this event," Neal said.

Peter kept his expression interested despite the twist of anger in his gut. Barely a year after his "death" and they were engaged. "Congratulations," he said. "When's the big day?"

"We haven't decided," Neal said. "It's a recent thing." He caught sight of Elizabeth and beckoned her over. "Elizabeth, this is Patrick Burns. Mr. Burns, my fiancee, Elizabeth."

Peter got the same odd look from her as he'd gotten from Neal, the spark of almost recognition in her eyes. "Something wrong?" he asked.

"No...it's just...you sound so familiar," Elizabeth said. "Like Peter."

"Old flame?"

"You could say that," Elizabeth said. "We were involved for a few years but it didn't work out."

You tossed me aside, Peter thought, for a pretty boy con artist...and downgraded me to ex-boyfriend. "Mr. Caffrey tells me you organized this event. I must say, you have an excellent staff. It seems a lot of the time, the wait staff barely knows what they're doing."

"Well, I've been doing this for a while," Elizabeth said. "I know how to get the best out of my people."

"And what is it you do, Mr. Caffrey?"

"Private security consultant," Neal said. "You?"

"Accountant," Peter said. "Semi retired." He shrugged. "Not as exciting as what you do, I'm sure but it helps pay the bills. Although sometimes I help the FBI's White Collar division now and then."

"Really?" Neal asked interestedly...at least anyone other then Peter would mistake it for interest. He heard the barest note of wariness in his voice. "Who have you worked with?"

"I've worked with a few people," Peter said. "An Agent Jones and..." He paused as if trying to remember the name. "Oh yes, an Agent Burke. Why do you know them?"

"I worked with them for four years as a consultant," Neal said. "Peter...Agent Burke was the ASAC."

"Was? Seemed a bit young to retire," Peter said. "And I could see he really loved the work."

"He did," Neal said. "But last I heard he was killed in the line of duty."

"Sorry to hear that," Peter said. "I'm sure his wife was devastated. I got the sense they loved each other very much." He hid a smirk at their discomfort and glanced at his watch. "It was nice meeting you but if you'll excuse me..." He left them staring after him but ignored them and went to speak to the host.

Keeping his voice low and his gaze off the two, he informed the host that there was a known thief and conman among the guests, discreetly pointing out Neal who was conversing with another guest. "I have a friend at the Bureau," Peter said. "He was suspected in a number of thefts, forgeries and confidence schemes and went to prison for bond forgery." He paused, seeing the man's uncertainty. "Just keep an eye on him," he said. "You'll see how he almost cases the place, how his attention is fixed on the ladies jewelry even as he charms them. It's his way of distracting them as he rips them off. Most won't realize it until it's too late."

"Thank you Mr. Burns. I'll certainly have him observed...discreetly, of course."

"Just trying to help," Peter said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must be going. I have an early meeting tomorrow. Thank you for a wonderful time." He conveniently couldn't find Elizabeth or Neal as he made his good byes but word seemed to have spread among some of the guests about Neal's status as an ex-con by the time he made his exit.

Peter knew it would be late before Elizabeth and Neal returned to the townhouse since Elizabeth had to stay for the clean up and Neal would most likely wait for her so he changed out of his tux and cracked open a beer as he waited. He'd been mean and vindictive but he wasn't sorry - not after what he'd heard earlier. They'd both been lying to him for months - in Neal's case, for years.

It was nearing midnight when he heard them return over the laptop speaker and he set aside his magazine to listen.

"It couldn't have been Peter," Neal said. "You know that."

"I know," Elizabeth said, somewhat irritated. "I was there when they buried him, playing the grieving widow." She sighed. "I'm sorry. It was just...unsettling, how much he sounded like Peter. He even had the same eyes."

Neal turned her toward him. "Hey. Forget about him. Forget about Peter," he said softly. "You have me now. Just think about how much I love you and about the life we'll have together."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I will," she said. "Now, I'm tired so let's go to bed."

"My favorite place to be with you," Neal said with a suggestive smile, making Elizabeth laugh.

Peter snorted derisively, wondering how Elizabeth could fall for such a line. But then, Peter suspected that they were using each other as much as Neal had used him. Neal had wanted the white picket fence with Kate but Adler and his machinations had put a definitive end to those plans and Neal had latched onto Elizabeth as an acceptable substitute. And Elizabeth had grown tired of "safe" and latched onto Neal to give her the excitement she felt was missing from her life. Neal hadn't cared that Elizabeth was already taken because that was Neal - taking what he wanted without remorse or regard to the fall out as long as he wasn't caught in it.

As he removed the earpiece, he briefly wondered if he could get Neal back on the Bureau's radar but dismissed it. He was as dead to the team as he was to Neal and Elizabeth. Instead he turned his mind to other plans on how to keep them off balance, keep himself at the forefront of their thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

"Here's another one," Elizabeth said, holding a plain white envelope with _Caffrey_ typed on the front.

"What's it say?" Neal asked though he had a good idea. They'd gotten a number of them over the past few months, all containing a single index card with one or two sentences, most of them with clear references to Peter.

Elizabeth removed the card and read in a somewhat shaky voice. _He hated you, you know? There at the end. He hated both of you with a passion he never realized he was capable of. But betrayal can do that to a man._

It was the longest they'd gotten since the two letters and the majority had been aimed at Elizabeth.

_He sees Kate when he's with you._

_You're a substitute for a dead woman._

_He's lied to everyone else, why not you?_

_Can you be sure he loves you? He told Kate he loved her too._

_He's never gotten over Kate's death, you know._

_He's a con man so what would make you think he's not conning you?_

Some were aimed at Neal.

_You know she doesn't think she can fully trust you. You're a conman and she knows it._

_She wonders if you're seeing Kate when you're with her._

_She's as good a con as you are. Are you sure she's not conning you?_

_She tossed Peter aside after fifteen years. She could very well do the same to you._

And after each one, they had to reassure each other that what the card said wasn't true. But each could see the doubts growing. The cards were hitting close to home, especially for Elizabeth. She knew that she superficially resembled Kate - they both had the blue eyes and dark hair - and she knew Neal had loved her deeply, had thought she was The One. After all, he'd escaped from prison with little time left on his sentence to find her and her death had devastated him. And she knew he was a conman, the best in recent memory, slipping through Peter's fingers time and again for three years. He lied and charmed by reflex and showed only what he wanted others to see. Unlike Peter, who'd shown people exactly who he was.

Elizabeth shook herself. She'd gone into this with her eyes wide open. They'd both known exactly what they were doing. Neal hadn't conned her into discarding Peter like an old newspaper. She'd been tired of safe, tired of knowing that Peter would forget the important dates or remembering at the last minute if he did remember. And though their sex life was good, it was more vanilla than she liked.

With Neal, life was exciting, filled with gallery openings and the opera, fine cuisine and excellent wines...and the occasional minor con. Neal was _fun_.

"Let me have it," Neal said, taking the card. "Next time we find one, we don't open it. It doesn't matter what it says."

"I just want to know who's sending them," Elizabeth said. "And how they know."

"One of the first things you should have done was have them dusted for prints," Peter said to himself, smirking.

Not that it would have done them any good. Peter had been careful as he handled the cards and envelopes, wearing latex gloves. Had been careful when he dropped each one off, going in through the back (and still surprised that they hadn't upgraded the security) and leaving each one in a place they'd be easily seen - the dining room table, the kitchen counter, the coffee table, even on Elizabeth's pillow once. And because he was "dead", they had to dismiss the most logical suspect...the one they'd betrayed.

The last card was the last card, Peter decided. It was time to up the ante. Pulling out his old phone, he sent a short text to Elizabeth then one to Neal, knowing they would think they were being pranked...at least at first.

"What the hell...?" Neal said on reading the text - a text from someone who couldn't possibly have sent it.

"Who's sick idea is this?" Elizabeth asked angrily. "Why do you never visit my grave?!"

"You too?" Neal asked, showing her his text. "I should have left you in prison. I should have sent you back when I had the chance." He looked at her. "What happened to Peter's phone?"

"I don't think they ever found it," Elizabeth said.

Neal's phone chimed again. "You're an ungrateful son of a bitch, Caffrey. After everything I did for you, you steal my wife."

Then Elizabeth's. "I loved you, El. With everything I had...but that wasn't enough, was it?" She couldn't deny the truth of the text. It hadn't been enough, not with Neal there, showing her what her marriage was lacking. Yes, it had been stable - some would say rock solid - but it had been...ordinary. And it had been enough until Neal came along and showed her how fun life could be. Her first instinct was to change her number but that was out of the question since it was also her business number. Same for Neal. Somewhat resignedly, she realized they'd both get more texts...apparently from a dead man.

The next time Peter was in the house, he had Elizabeth's jewelry...and more epoxy. His mouth twitched when he saw her wedding ring still stuck to the mirror. Epoxy was a bitch to get off once it cured. Carefully but quickly, he went around the house, placing necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches and earrings in plain sight, firmly secured to the surfaces they rested on - the dining room table, the kitchen counter, the bathroom vanity, even the refrigerator and toilet.

While he still had time - he knew they'd be gone until early evening - he opened the beer he'd brought and settled in with the TV on low as he ate the deviled ham sandwich he'd brought as well. Once he was satisfied that the epoxy had cured, he left through the back, leaving the opened beer, half a deviled ham sandwich and the TV on some sports show. Just little reminders that he'd once been a part of their lives.

"We need to upgrade the security," Neal said, wrinkling his nose as he disposed of the remains of the sandwich. "Someone is definitely messing with us."

"We should have before this," Elizabeth said. Aside from the beer and the sandwich, she'd been relieved - at first - to find her jewelry...then realized it had been epoxied like her wedding ring. She hadn't really cared about what Peter had given her but the pieces from her grandmother...from Neal... It was getting to the point they were running out of rooms to be in that didn't remind them of Peter or that someone apparently had a vendetta against them. She was giving serious thought to moving, starting fresh with no hint of Peter to be seen. She dropped into a chair at the table, idly playing with the necklace - one that Peter had given her - feeling the tears prick her eyes.

"El? Hey, we'll figure it out," Neal said softly. "Whoever this is will get bored eventually. They'll stop."

"Whoever it is hates us, Neal," Elizabeth said. "They don't want us to forget Peter, they keep reminding us of what we did...and they keep making us question each other. They keep reminding you that I look like Kate and they keep reminding me that you're a con man. Whoever it is doesn't want us to be together. That much is obvious." She looked around, looking a little helpless. "I loved this house," she said. "And they've ruined it. There isn't a room in here that hasn't been...violated." She startled a little when her phone pinged. "Just like you both violated my trust...when you fucked while Caffrey was still shackled. We'd agreed that was off the table until he wasn't." Barely resisting the urge to throw it against the wall, she dropped the phone onto the table just as Neal's went off...but it wasn't a text. It was a call.

"Hello?"

"Caffrey."

"Who is this?"

"Forget me so soon? I'm crushed. But then you do tend to forget your marks when you finish the con."

"Peter?"

"It's not Peter," Elizabeth said a bit sharply. "He's dead, remember?"

"I can have this call traced," Neal said. "I have friends at the Bureau."

"They only tolerated you Caffrey. And only because of Peter. There were bets on how long it would take for him to toss your ass back in prison. Something he should have done after you forged that painting. Hell, if he'd known he'd be just a mark, he'd have left you there."

"He'd have known that if he was a smart as he thought he was," Neal said.

"He was smart...and the only person you could ever trust. Kate played you, Alex and Moz used you and Elizabeth...well, as soon as she deems you too boring, she'll cut you loose."

"She won't!" Neal said.

"You sure about that? She did with Peter."

"Peter _was_ boring," Neal said, sneering a little.

"Perhaps but just to be safe, you'd better keep her entertained...maybe involve her in the cons you're still running."

"I'm not..."

"Save it Caffrey. You're a con artist. That's all you'll ever be. All you've ever wanted to be. A crime free, legit life would simply be too boring for you." Before Neal could respond, the caller hung up, leaving him staring at the phone in disbelief.

Peter knew he'd taken a risk, calling as he had but he was counting on the fact that they'd immediately dismiss the idea that it could be him. Elizabeth had supported that by reminding Neal that he was dead. And he didn't deny that he was enjoying messing with their heads. If he played it right, he'd get the revenge he admitted he was after. Forget Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned...Neal would come to regret ever having heard of Peter Burke. And Elizabeth would wish she'd never met Neal Caffrey.


	4. Chapter 4

Elizabeth set the knife aside, past caring about the scratches and gouges she'd left freeing her jewelry. Not that she could wear any of it, not with the glue still stuck to it. Now, her only untouched pieces were the engagement ring Neal had given her and the earrings she'd been wearing during that round of vandalism.

But what had her most on edge was the call she'd received after Neal had left for his consult. It had sounded like Peter, so much so that doubt he was actually dead flickered across her mind before she dismissed it. There had been positive identification. Who else would have had Peter's wallet and credentials? Peter had the situational awareness and training to keep from being the victim of some random mugging not to mention being physically imposing enough to make any would be mugger think twice. It had looked like a professional hit.

But that knowledge hadn't kept Elizabeth from wondering as the caller reminded her of who and what Neal was, how his one true love had been murdered on that airstrip, how it was almost inevitable that he go back to the life - the thrill of the con was highly addictive and Neal had never really given it up. He had, after all, conned her into tossing her marriage away...or at least conned her into questioning it after years of being absolutely sure.

"Why are you doing this?" Elizabeth had asked shakily.

"Why? Because you deserve it." There was a pause. "And it's _fun_. Just keep in mind, Caffrey has a habit of only showing people what he wants them to see. So just ask yourself, are you seeing the real him? Or just a mask?"

And Elizabeth had asked herself if what Neal had shown her was genuine or one of the masks he wore so effortlessly. Who _was_ Neal Caffrey? From there, her thoughts had gone - against her will - to the many times Neal had put Peter into career- or life-threatening situations, knowing full well how much his job meant to him. But Peter had only been a mark to the conman, who'd counted on Peter being able to extricate himself...after all, if Peter had lost his job or his life, Neal would have gone back to prison and he'd have lost any chance to find Kate before she was killed. But Neal hadn't really _cared_ that Peter had risked at least his career for him, almost seemed to take it as his due, that of course he was so special, so valuable an asset that a tough, by the book agent would take those risks.

And did Neal consider _her_ his due? That of course she'd abandon her old (very stable) life in exchange for one with a known criminal and conman, for excitement with a touch of danger? He got what he wanted so often that maybe he took it for granted he'd get her too. Maybe he saw her as just a thing to be acquired, getting revenge on the man who'd had him shackled in the process, never mind that he'd asked for that shackle, agreed to be bound to the Bureau, to Peter for those four years. But that had been a con so he could look for Kate.

"El?"

Elizabeth startled, badly, when she heard Neal's voice. "You can stop acting like a thief, Neal," she snapped. "You don't have to sneak around."

"I didn't sneak," Neal said. "You just didn't hear me."

"That's what sneaking around means," Elizabeth said, standing. "Next time, let me know you're here instead of scaring the hell out of me." Leaving him standing wide eyed and nonplussed, she went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of something stronger than wine.

"What's gotten into you, El?"

"Nothing," Elizabeth said tightly.

"Bullshit," Neal countered. "Something has you rattled and I wish you'd tell me." When she just looked at him, sipping her drink, he saw the doubts, the uncertainty in her eyes, questioning him and what they had. "El, you know I love you..."

"More than you loved Kate?" Elizabeth asked. "Or am I just a replacement, a substitute? Maybe a way for you to get back at Peter....and quit calling me El. That's what he called me."

"You're not a substitute for Kate, not a replacement," Neal said. "Yeah, you look like her so I guess I have a type. Sue me."

"But you wanted this..." Elizabeth spread her arms to indicate the whole house. "With Kate and when Adler took that away from you, I was the next best option to getting it."

Neal frowned, almost scowled at her. "Yes, I loved Kate," he said. "But that doesn't mean I can't love you. And at least I grieved her death which is more than you can say for Peter. But speaking as something of an expert, you put on a hell of a convincing act."

"So we're both cons, is that it?" Elizabeth asked.

"I know I am, never claimed not to be," Neal said. "At least I was honest about it. You knew it and didn't care...in fact you enjoyed it. As for you, lately I've had to wonder."

"That's rich," Elizabeth said derisively. "_You_ don't trust _me_. I didn't spend half my life conning people and stealing."

"No, you didn't," Neal said. "You spent fifteen years married to a nice, safe FBI Boy Scout, afraid to go into the grey areas and have a little fun for once."

"I didn't go into the grey areas?!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Who the hell helped you sneak past a Bureau stakeout, aiding and abetting a fugitive? Peter was ready to toss your pretty ass back in prison but I convinced him to listen to you. Oh, and don't forget I impersonated a Federal agent, busted right into the middle of more than one of your cases. How's _that_ for going into the grey areas? It's just that, unlike you, I didn't set up housekeeping and live there." She paused. "Oh, that's right,' she said. "You never stayed in one place long enough to set up housekeeping. Not voluntarily anyway."

"I proposed that deal to get out of prison," Neal said evenly.

"You proposed it to look for Kate," Elizabeth said. "What would you have done if Peter hadn't agreed? Escape again? Probably, since you were so hell bent on finding her, you pulled a bone headed stunt that got you another four years." She set her glass down harder than necessary. "Would you do the same for me?" she asked. "If I disappeared, would you risk prison to find me? Or would you just move on? Find someone else?"

"I can't answer that," Neal said.

"You mean you won't answer," Elizabeth said.

"No, I mean I can't answer because I'm sure you wouldn't disappear on me," Neal said.

Elizabeth regarded him a moment then said quietly, "I'm sorry I can't say the same."

Neal looked at her, shocked and sad at her admission. Without a word, he turned and left.

Elizabeth picked up her glass and drained the contents, listening as Neal climbed the stairs but made no move to go after him. Between what she knew about him, the letters, the notes, the texts and the calls, her doubts about him and what they had were too strong to ignore. And she was afraid her doubts would end them. Part of the problem was she couldn't read him as well as Peter had, wasn't as versed in the silent language of Neal Caffrey. Peter, she'd known but he'd made it easy - he'd been exactly who he'd said he was. With Neal...well, the onion analogy fit very well. There was always another layer to peel back and Elizabeth could never be sure she'd reached the last one, found the true Neal Caffrey.

She poured another drink, hearing Neal come back downstairs, not really surprised when she heard the front door close a few minutes later. "Running again,' she said to herself. "Not surprised, really. You're good at that." The house phone rang, making her jump. "What?" she snapped.

There was silence on the other end, then, "Trouble in paradise?" The amusement in the voice was unmistakable. "You finally saw Caffrey for what he is. What he'll always be. A liar, a thief, a conman. You know it, he knows it."

"Who is this?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Someone who's pissed off at the way you treated a man who was dedicated to you and your happiness, someone who put you at the center of his world. He _loved_ you Elizabeth but that wasn't enough, was it? Not with Caffrey there. He thought you were too smart to fall for the con. But you weren't."

"Who says I fell for it?"

"You betrayed Peter," the caller said. "Betrayed him without a second thought. It was calculated, deliberate. You threw away something good and for what? A man you can never fully trust...a man who couldn't handle your doubts and left."

"How do you know this?"

"I have my sources." With that the line went dead.

Peter smirked, having heard the latest exchange between Neal and Elizabeth and he knew Elizabeth well enough - still - to know she'd have a very hard time putting her doubts about Neal aside. Bottom lione was they were both insecure about the other - Neal about anyone caring enough about _him_ to stick around. After all, his father had left him, his mother had retreated into fantasy, Kate had disappeared on him, leaving only cryptic clues and warnings. And Neal knew that he could never be sure if Alex and Moz weren't just using him for his skills.

And Elizabeth. She could never be sure Neal loved _her_, that she wasn't Kate's replacement, that Neal wasn't projecting his feelings for Kate onto her, could never be sure she wasn't just a mark like Peter had been, never be sure he was being truthful with her and not wearing a mask.

So it didn't really surprise Peter that their engagement had been broken off - not if the lack of a ring on Elizabeth's finger was any indication.

He'd run into her at another event, saw her looking a little sad, a little strained though it didn't affect her capability. Neal was there was well and Peter noticed him studiously avoiding Elizabeth but clipped, almost curt when he was required to interact with her. They made such a pathetic pair that Peter was almost tempted to feel sorry for them. Would have if he hadn't been the target of their betrayal.

"You know Peter loved you," Elizabeth said quietly as she watched her people work.

"He...what?"

"He loved you," Elizabeth repeated. "Romantically."

"He was straight," Neal said.

"He was bi," Elizabeth corrected. "I thought you were better at reading people than that. Why do you think he was almost constantly touching you? Why do you think he was so willing to take those risks? Why he was so against sending you back to prison? It would have devastated him if he'd had no choice but to put you back."

"I was never interested in him like that," Neal said. "The only reason I'd have even let him kiss me would have been because it was part of the con. The only reason I agreed to be with you _and_ Peter was so I could be with you. I had no intention of being intimate with him."

"I think he knew that," Elizabeth said. "And that's why he didn't fight what we did to him. He loved us both enough to let us have each other and get out of our way."

"But we _don"t_ have each other, do we? Neal asked. "Because you preferred to listen to your doubts."

"Because you couldn't stop being a conman," Elizabeth countered. "I need to be let in, Neal and you can't allow that. You guard yourself too closely." She paused a moment, sipping her champagne. "You're scared."

Neal was silent for a few moments. "Maybe you're right," he said quietly. "But your reaction to that whole mess didn't nothing to reassure me. You'll never get past the fact that I'm a conman. Never accept that I'd change...for you. Never accept that I _can_ change. At least Peter let me know he thought I could."

"Well, obviously Peter was a better person than either of us," Elizabeth said. "So maybe neither of us deserved him instead of the other way around."

"Peter never deserved you," Neal said. "I was better for you and you know it."

"Maybe," Elizabeth allowed. "But I always knew I could trust Peter without reservation."

"And yet you worked with me to shut him out," Neal said. "You didn't care about how he felt about it any more than I did."

"Maybe I've realized it might have been a mistake," Elizabeth said. "He didn't deserve what we did to him. He was a good man."

"He's dead so it's a little late for regrets," Neal said. "And yeah, maybe it was a mistake. Maybe _we_ were a mistake." With that, he left her standing and went to find his host.

Peter had watched them with amusement and more than a little satisfaction. Though he hadn't heard much of what was said, he caught the gist of their conversation. Enough to know that it was truly over between them. Too bad neither of them had been Star Trek fans. If they had been, they'd have known that old Klingon proverb:

_Revenge is a dish best served cold___


End file.
